by Kira Chase
Johanna peered at her over the rim of her coffee mug and grinned. “You say that about almost every new client. No one forced you to agree to take her case, hon. You're the one who said it felt right. And when it feels right to you, it usually is. That's why I trust your instincts if I'm not around when a new case comes up. You haven't been wrong yet.”
Frankie chuckled. “I know, but maybe my instincts are off this time. Something's not right about her.” She picked up her coffee mug. “You'll see what I mean if she shows up.”
“I should have spent some time over the weekend doing a preliminary search. Just to familiarize ourselves with her and her husband.”
Frankie raised an eyebrow. “We never begin work on any case until we have a signed contract with retainer in hand. Besides, the weekend was only about you and me without any mention of work.”
“And what a perfectly beautiful weekend it was.” Johanna smiled. “Well, until she comes in, I think I'll take care of some invoices and clear the files on your closed cases. Though I have to admit you did do more paper work than I thought you would have.”
Frankie screwed up her face. “Paper work and I don't get along. Never have and never will.”
“I knew that way back in Philly when you'd push it off on me.” She scowled, and then laughed. “But I love you anyway.”
“Good to know.” She blew her a kiss and then pushed her chair back and stood. “Do you want a breakfast sandwich? You didn't eat anything for breakfast this morning. I can run over to the coffee shop.”
“I was too excited about coming back to work, but I am starving. A cheese and egg breakfast sandwich would hit the spot.”
“You've got it.” Frankie grabbed her jacket from the back room and was reentering the office when the door swung open. She quickly spread her jacket over the back of her chair and then walked swiftly towards the door, meeting Kendall Longman who was halfway to their desks.
“It's nice to see you again, Mrs. Longman,” Frankie greeted her cheerfully.
“I brought the retainer check,” Kendall said.
“Please, have a seat,” Frankie said leading her to one of the chairs situated in front of Johanna's desk. “This is my partner Johanna Obrien.”
Frankie saw the glimmer of shock in Johanna's eyes as they swept over Kendall Longman.
Johanna smiled pleasantly. “It's nice to meet you. Can I get you a cup of coffee, Mrs. Longman?”
The woman shook her head. “No, thank you.” She pulled a check from her purse and laid it on Johanna's desk as she seated herself. “It's a cashier's check,” she said focusing on Frankie. “Now I need to know when you can start. I hope right away.”
Johanna retrieved a notepad from a desk drawer and picked up a pen. “First, we're going to need a little bit more information than what you've already given to Frankie. Do you have a picture of your husband?”
“I thought maybe you could find a suitable one on the Internet.” She swept a hand through her hair. “His picture is posted in several articles.”
Frankie frowned. “Do you have one? Preferably a recent one.” She watched Kendall Longman's stiff movements. The woman appeared nervous. “If not, I'll look and see what I can find.”
Kendall reopened her purse and rummaged through it for a full minute. “I have one in here somewhere,” she said in a low voice. “It's not a recent one, though, but he hasn't changed much.”
Frankie noted the same sad look in Kendall Longman's eyes that she'd seen last Friday. It made her want to help her no matter what. As she caught Johanna's eye, she knew by the look in those beautiful eyes that Johanna was getting the same feeling. But Frankie also knew they had to tread slowly. They really knew nothing about this woman, who looked as though she lived on the streets. Usually they got different reads on their cases and then put their heads together. That's what made them a good team. Johanna was more patient and read people well. Frankie was impatient and judged everyone on the first impression. This time, though, their impressions appeared to be the same. They both pitied the woman sitting in front of Johanna's desk.
“Here,” Kendall finally said, thrusting a small picture at Frankie. “This one was taken about a year ago. Like I said, he hasn't changed much. Will this do?”
“It's fine.” Frankie studied the picture before passing it to Johanna. Thatcher Longman was at least ten years younger than his wife from what she could determine looking at Kendall. He was extremely good looking in a pompous sort of way. He was well dressed in an obviously tailor-made suit, giving the appearance of someone who was used to and expected the finer things in life. He looked like a conceited bastard who expected those who crossed his path to bow down to him. Frankie hated the type. Something still didn't add up, though. Kendall Longman was in direct contrast to the man in the photo. She was dressed in clothing that appeared to have come from a thrift store. In fact, she was wearing the same clothes she'd worn last Friday. Even though she hadn't changed her clothes, she had no offensive body odor and appeared clean. Her teeth were perfect and not stained or yellowed. There wasn't even a trace of dirt under her fingernails. How could this woman be the wife of a distinguished and obviously wealthy man like Thatcher Longman? There were definitely many pieces of this puzzle that were missing. Nothing added up.
Johanna cleared her throat as she examined the picture. She handed it back to Frankie and opened the file she had already prepared with Kendall Longman's name on it. She removed the contract Kendall had signed on Friday, picked up a pen and added her signature on the appropriate line, then passed the document to Frankie for her signature.
“I need to ask you a few questions, Mrs. Longman,” Johanna said in a friendly tone.
“Please call me Kendall,” the woman replied.
Frankie signed the contract. “I'll scan a copy of the picture and contract for our files.” She walked over to the scanner, which was situated on a counter that ran the length of one wall in the office. Underneath the counter were the filing cabinets.
“Can you call me tomorrow morning with a report?” Kendall asked. “I need to know what he's doing and who he's with when he leaves his office every evening.”
Johanna's eyebrows knitted together. “Why do you suspect your husband of cheating?”
Kendall lowered her eyes. “All the signs are there.”
“Such as?”
“He comes home late from the office every night and spends most of the time holed up in his study. We rarely even have dinner together.” Her shoulders slumped. “We haven't shared the same bed in years.”
Frankie turned from the scanner and looked in surprise at Johanna. The woman had to be delusional. Frankie felt sorry for her, but it was obvious, at least to her, that the man in this picture couldn't possibly be her husband. She grabbed the picture, contract, and the copies she had scanned and headed back to the desk. She gave Kendall the picture and contract.
Kendall shook her head and drew a deep breath as she lowered her eyes. She swallowed hard and rubbed her temples. “You don't know the half of what that man has done to me. Look at the picture of him and then take a good hard look at me. He's done this to me.” Her lips trembled and a tear slid down her cheek. “He only married me for my money, but like a fool I was taken in by his charm. He's an evil deceitful human being. He froze me out of my accounts.” She raised her eyes and met theirs. “I know you don't believe that he's my husband. I don't blame you. In your situation I would find it hard to believe too.”
Frankie slipped into the chair next to Kendall's. She passed the scanned copies to Johanna. “Can you start at the beginning, Kendall?” she asked softly.
“It's complicated. I don't know where to begin.” She let out a weary sigh.
“Just start at the beginning,” Johanna said gently. “You said he married you for your money. I hope he signed a pre-nup.”
“He did. My attorney insisted on it.” She opened her purse, pulled a paper from it, and then handed it to Frankie. “I've detailed his daily
schedule, but I have no idea where he goes every night after he's finished at the office. He rarely deviates from it during working hours unless there's an emergency. What he does when he leaves the office is anyone's guess.”
“Does he return home every night? I mean are there any nights that he doesn't come home at all?”
She shrugged. “As far as I know he comes home, but if he goes out later I have no clue. As I stated, we have separate bedrooms and I usually retire to my room by eleven o'clock.” She brushed a strand of fallen hair from her cheek.
As Frankie looked over the neatly typed sheet of paper, she had to admit that Kendall had done her homework. “So he never deviates from this schedule? I see that you have each day listed from eight o'clock in the morning until six o'clock in the evening. What about weekends?”
“He's usually home or at the office.” She squirmed restlessly in her chair. “I need proof that he's violated the pre-nuptial agreement before he gains control of everything I own.”
Frankie rubbed her chin. “Please clarify something for me. You keep mentioning a pre-nup, so I assume he can't gain access to any of your accounts without your permission. How then did he manage to freeze your accounts?”
She chewed her bottom lip. “He had me hospitalized.”
Frankie sat contemplating her next question. So far, none of this made any sense. Kendall Longman was obviously suffering from a mental disorder. She certainly didn't look like she had two nickels to rub together. But then, she'd given them a substantial check. Was it forged? If not, where had she gotten the money? Had she developed an unnatural fixation on Thatcher Longman and imagined that he was her husband? At this point, Frankie didn't know what to think.
“I assume you have a lawyer. Why isn't he helping you?” Frankie asked.
Kendall twisted her fingers. “I came here on my attorney's recommendation. He secured the cashier's check for me. He said you've done work for him before and Barker and Obrien are the best private investigators in the tri-state area. And the best is what I need.”
“Who's your attorney?” Johanna asked.
“Alec Oakman.”
Johanna lifted a surprised eyebrow. “Yes, we've done some work for Alec.” She jotted the name on her notepad, and then cast a bewildered look in Frankie's direction.
Frankie shrugged her shoulders and frowned at Johanna as she continued to sit and observe Kendall Longman. Kendall had stopped twisting her fingers and now held her hands tightly clasped together in her lap. If this woman was telling the truth, Alec Oakman could fill in the missing pieces. Right now it appeared that all the pieces were missing. If what Kendall said was true, why hadn't Alec contacted them personally instead of sending his client over, especially without prior notification? When an attorney was involved, these types of cases generally worked that way. Johanna and she received their information from him, did their work, and gave him their reports without ever meeting his clients personally. She'd call him as soon as Kendall left. If Kendall's story was true, then Johanna and she had just been handed a not only unusual, but also captivating case. If the woman wasn't in her right mind, which was what Frankie still suspected, then hopefully, with Alec's help, they'd get her the help she needed.
The more Kendall talked, the more Frankie realized something was definitely off with her. The details of everything Kendall said Thatcher Longman had done to her seemed inconceivable for the supposedly wealthy heiress that she proclaimed she was. This woman obviously wasn't the real Kendall Longman, but someone with an infatuation with the family. Frankie didn't sense that Kendall posed any immediate danger to Johanna or her, but she kept her guard up just in case. Her eyebrows knitted together. She felt sorry for the woman, but it was the pain in Kendall's eyes that pierced her heart.
Frankie focused her attention on Johanna. She was pleased that Johanna was back in the swing of things as she continued to question the woman and jot down notes. The spark was back in Johanna's eyes; the spark that had been missing through the long weeks of her recovery. Yes, she was back doing what she loved to do. When there was a lull in Johanna's questioning, Frankie jumped in. She needed an answer to the question Johanna hadn't yet asked.
“I need to ask you something, Kendall.”
“Anything.” She turned her head and looked expectantly at Frankie. “Can you begin tonight? I need to know where he goes and who he sees.”
“We can.” Frankie cleared her throat as Johanna shot a quick glance at her. “But we still need you to answer a few questions first.”
Kendall nodded. “I'm sorry. What do you need to know?”
“What does he do for a living?”
“He's involved in many enterprises, but his primary focus is in hotels.” She paused. “At least I still think that's his primary focus.”
“So, he manages them,” Frankie replied.
“Not exactly.” Kendall pensively pulled at her chin. “You've heard of Bronson Enterprises.”
“Of course,” Johanna said. “Who hasn't?”
Frankie frowned. The Bronson Enterprises included a chain of luxurious hotels, which were located all over the country. They mostly catered to the upper class. With the success of the hotels, they had branched out into other areas. Now what path was Kendall Longman leading them down? Her story was becoming more ludicrous with every word she spoke. Frankie sat back in her chair. Next, the woman would probably tell her that she owned the hotels and not the Bronsons.
“Like the lovesick fool I was, I gave absolute control of everything to him. The hotels are part of the estate my father left to me along with all the other enterprises.” She pulled her driver's license from her wallet and handed it to Frankie. “You made a copy of this on Friday. Look closely at my photo. It really is me.”
Something in Frankie's memory clicked as she took a good look at the photo on the driver's license. Her eyes almost popped out of her head. A quick look at Johanna showed that she had the same reaction. Now the pieces of the puzzle started coming together. That's where she'd heard the name Longman. She recalled a newspaper article from a few years back featuring Kendall Bronson Longman and her new husband Thatcher Longman.
“You're telling me that you're Kendall Bronson.” Frankie didn't believe the woman seated next to her was the same woman featured in that long ago article. Kendall Bronson had been a striking beauty and had frequently been featured in magazine and newspaper articles because of her many generous charitable contributions to the community. There had been no shortage of suitors for the slim, beautiful woman. What the hell was this woman up to? How had she gotten Kendall Bronson Longman's ID? Had the real Kendall lost it or had it stolen? If it weren't for the woman's gentle nature, Frankie would have detained her and called George. But there was something that stopped her. In any event, she couldn't let the woman leave the office without getting to the bottom of it.
“Yes, I'm Kendall Bronson.” She once again twisted her fingers together. “I know you must have a lot of questions. I urge you to call my attorney, Alec Oakman, and he'll vouch for me that I am who I say I am in case you still have doubts.” She turned her head and looked at Frankie, then looked straight ahead at Johanna. “I'd have doubts, too, if I were in your place. Alec will explain everything to you. I'll be in touch to fill in any blanks that you still may have.” She rose. “But please, I'm pleading with you to help me.” She drew a shuddering breath as she clutched her purse in her hands. “Please.”
Chapter 4
“Do you believe her?” Frankie asked.
Johanna rubbed her temples. “At first I didn't, but no one could make up a story like that. What about you?”
“I was going to detain her, but when she mentioned Alec Oakman, it threw me off guard.” Frankie grew pensive. “And she does have Kendall Longman's driver's license. But it could be lost or stolen.”
Johanna nodded. “I had my doubts until she mentioned Alec. There's no way she could make up that name. I believe her. What I want to know is how the hell that could ha
ve happened to her?” she asked as she studied her notes.
Frankie walked back to her own desk and sat down. “There were rumors that Kendall Bronson had a nervous breakdown after her father died.”
“I remember that. She was the only surviving heir to the Bronson fortune. The estate was valued at billions.”
“Yes. And less than six months after her hospitalization, she married Thatcher Longman,” Frankie added. Her eyes clouded.
“Are you thinking what I am?” Johanna asked.
Frankie nodded. “Thatcher Longman took the perfect opportunity to make his move on her when she was at her most vulnerable.”
“Didn't she have a fiancée who was killed about a year or so before her father died?”
“I'd forgotten that. The papers reported it was a skiing accident. It happened only two or three months before they were to be married.”
“I'm going to see what I can dig up on Mr. Thatcher Longman.” Johanna turned her attention to her computer screen. “I want to know what he did before he wormed his way into Kendall Bronson's life.”
“So you definitely believe the woman we met is the real Kendall Bronson?” Frankie ran a hand over her face. “As much as I want to believe the woman who was just in our office is a crazed obsessed stalker, a part of me can't, just as I can't believe she is the real Kendall Bronson Longman either. The pain and sadness in her eyes was heart-wrenching, though.”
“I know. As bizarre as her story sounded I believe it's the truth. It makes me more determined than ever to help her.” She tapped a few keys. “This case is just what I need to put me back in the saddle.” She glanced at Frankie. “I feel like I've been stagnating for too long.” She stood and walked to a filing cabinet.
Frankie lifted her eyebrows. “You could never stagnate.” She smacked her lips as Johanna passed her desk. “I'd love to put you in that saddle, too. Now that would be something we haven't tried.” Johanna looked classy in a red knee length skirt and white nylon blouse. Her feet were adorned in a pair of red pumps. But it was her legs—those long sensuous legs—that always caused a fire to rage inside of Frankie. As the years passed, Johanna just seemed to get even more beautiful. She loved dressing up, but Frankie was more comfortable in jeans and a casual top, and only dressed up when an occasion called for it. Boots were her favorite style of footwear. She'd never felt comfortable in heels and only wore them when absolutely necessary.
